Normally when an incident happens, the whole town knows about it before the newspaper gets a chance to publish it. This time, the whole thing began with the newspaper. Renowned archeologist Professor G.B
Has announced his intention to search for
Captain Jack’s treasure chest.
“I believe,” he says in a recent interview “that the chest is out there.
Captain Jack may not have been as famous as Captain Kidd or Bluebeard.
But each pirate captain had money they hid.
Even a small amount of money back then can be worth a lot now. ”
He refused to disclose the location of where he would start searching,
but gave hints that it was “small and almost nonexistent”.
Three days later the train, which almost never stopped and therefore didn’t give our train station a reason to exist, dropped off a visitor.
“Excuse me,” the man said, tapping the ticket booth sharply. The dozing stationmaster started from his chair.
“Yeah?” He leaned forward to gaze blearily at the man he later said had the smartest garb he’d ever seen.
“Where is your nearest and best hotel?”
“Don’t have a hotel, but Widow Jones gets boarders.” The stationmaster gave him directions and sent Bill to help with his ridiculous amount of oddly shaped luggage.
“Stayin’ long?”
“Oh no, this is my equipment. I am here to unearth archeological remains.”
“I see,” the stationmaster lied but looked properly impressed. Bill and the man left then. Tired from so much chatting, the stationmaster went back to dozing.
By the end of the day the whole town, informed by Bill, knew that G.B. had chosen their town to search for treasure. Pleased to have such a famous person staying at her house, Widow Jones insisted on feeding and boarding G.B without charge. That night Widow Jones had an unusual amount of steady visitors, all of who brought welcome baskets and a question.
“Where, exactly, do you think it’s at?”
“Could be anywhere. We could be standing on it right this minute!”
And every visitor promised, before leaving, that they would keep his presence a town secret. It was not long before G.B, carrying a shovel, became a common sight around town.
It was the kids who first started to dig in their yards. Ordinarily they would’ve gotten in trouble but their parents just smiled and shrugged, declaring it was just the way kids were. After awhile, with no results, the children’s interest in their project faded. Around this time, many parents began to resume the digging, claiming that they had wanted to build a garden for the longest time but had never gotten around to it. When the deep craters in the yard made it clear that there was no gardening intended, people began
Renowned archeologist Professor G.B
Has announced his intention to search for
Captain Jack’s treasure chest.
“I believe,” he says in a recent interview “that the chest is out there.
Captain Jack may not have been as famous as Captain Kidd or Bluebeard.
But each pirate captain had money they hid.
Even a small amount of money back then can be worth a lot now. ”
He refused to disclose the location of where he would start searching,
but gave hints that it was “small and almost nonexistent”.
Three days later the train, which almost never stopped and therefore didn’t give our train station a reason to exist, dropped off a visitor.
“Excuse me,” the man said, tapping the ticket booth sharply. The dozing stationmaster started from his chair.
“Yeah?” He leaned forward to gaze blearily at the man he later said had the smartest garb he’d ever seen.
“Where is your nearest and best hotel?”
“Don’t have a hotel, but Widow Jones gets boarders.” The stationmaster gave him directions and sent Bill to help with his ridiculous amount of oddly shaped luggage.
“Stayin’ long?”
“Oh no, this is my equipment. I am here to unearth archeological remains.”
“I see,” the stationmaster lied but looked properly impressed. Bill and the man left then. Tired from so much chatting, the stationmaster went back to dozing.
By the end of the day the whole town, informed by Bill, knew that G.B. had chosen their town to search for treasure. Pleased to have such a famous person staying at her house, Widow Jones insisted on feeding and boarding G.B without charge. That night Widow Jones had an unusual amount of steady visitors, all of who brought welcome baskets and a question.
“Where, exactly, do you think it’s at?”
“Could be anywhere. We could be standing on it right this minute!”
And every visitor promised, before leaving, that they would keep his presence a town secret. It was not long before G.B, carrying a shovel, became a common sight around town.
It was the kids who first started to dig in their yards. Ordinarily they would’ve gotten in trouble but their parents just smiled and shrugged, declaring it was just the way kids were. After awhile, with no results, the children’s interest in their project faded. Around this time, many parents began to resume the digging, claiming that they had wanted to build a garden for the longest time but had never gotten around to it. When the deep craters in the yard made it clear that there was no gardening intended, people began